swim, fish, drink, sleep

As Dave finally reached maturity we decided to surprise him by taking him to a cottage on the other side of Arran for the week. The fishing rods were packed, the weather held and fortunately birthday boy remembered his hair straighteners. So no tears. Carradale, between Tarbert and Campbeltown, was a great place to chill out with all of us bringing our respective weights on shoulders but managing to discuss possibilities for a more ideal future. We had a few walks planned with the OS maps at the ready but we found that sitting fishing with a beer and good company was at least on par with a good walk, though perhaps even better. Despite the allergy I can see myself getting down the pier of a sunny eve to catch maw and paw's tea - great meditation. Ross and I managed to get in for a few dips in the sea before dinner on two days - invigorating stuff and partially x-rated. In the evenings we played with alcohol and abused the wii. So Callum didn't manage to work off the beer belly but quality time it certainly was.

clocks

I notice there hasn't been any entries regarding food or trains since I've been back in Scotland - it's no coincidence. Infact I've used trains a fair amount since I've been back and still find a romance much more like that of the ferry than cars or airplanes. It's the being able to wander freely and sit across from and talk to your fellow passenger which must make the difference. Even if the prices are a bit high. There's a real grandness to British stations and Glasgow is no exception. Sadly the old, large faced clocks have been replaced by digital ones but such is life......

edgy

I had lunch in one of these nice 21st century places that serves decent food the other day. You know - like Toast or Pret or somewhere like that. Growing in popularity but at complete odds with the traditional British mentality of waxy chocolate and prawn cocktails. I was sitting across from Harrods on Brompton Road and got in a quick drawing with my coffee. I also drew a nice jewellers on Old Bond Street despite being constantly sized up by the well dressed security, who seemed to think I was casing the street. It reminded me of the Blackadder episode where he orchestrates getting an MP blind-drunk and gets him in bed with a prostitute before ordering Baldrick to fetch "the fastest draughtsman in London town" to document the scene for blackmail pruposes. One of the security guys stood across the road eyeing me side on before walking very slowly over, passing me and hanging around behind me like a bad smell. Another came a few minutes later in the calm, slow walk that is surely much less subtle than they believe it to be. The two lingered together behind me before I told them they were making me nervous, smiled and they eventually meandered away to size up a bus party of primary school children.

Grand Depart

Last week was spent in Londres at a good friends house, aiding the current work-load. It felt a lot like being at art school again. In more ways than one. As with the general positive feelings of being back in Britain, London was much more refreshing than last I remember it. There was a buzz that the Tour de France, Wimbledon and peak tourist season can't help but make and the rain tried but ultimately failed to dampen the spirits. After an epic studio move on Sunday, I spent Monday and Tuesday taking photographs of the stormy skies and drawing around the city. Wednesday to Friday was fairly solid work before I headed over to the opening ceremony of the Tour in Charing Cross.